


Trade Mistakes

by lightbroke



Category: SPN, SPN Fandom - Fandom, Supernatural
Genre: Demons, F/M, Hunter - Freeform, Hunting, Supernatural-freeform, Winchester-Freeform, Winchesters - Freeform, Winchesters-Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 09:03:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1934919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightbroke/pseuds/lightbroke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Make sure you read the Note at the bottom and let me know your thoughts!! <3</p>
    </blockquote>





	Trade Mistakes

**Author's Note:**

> Make sure you read the Note at the bottom and let me know your thoughts!! <3

Pressed against the wall, the grip on your gun tightened, muscles flexed as you pushed your weight forward to shove the demon away.

“A salt rifle to a demon hunt. Not too smart, are you baby doll?” He cooed, running an over grown fingernail down your cheek. You grimaced and felt another surge of anger rush through you. Today was not your day. You’d gotten up on the wrong side of bed. No literally. You woke up sprawled over Castiel and the brothers didn’t let you live it down all day. The angel never slept but simply wanted to rest. Besides, he had no where else to go for once, but by sharing the bed with you, found himself locked beneath your limbs until sunrise. The teasing had gotten so bad you seriously considered footing the extra cash to have motel management wheel in a cot. 

Now you were trapped beneath a demon, ill equipped, tired, sweaty, and above all sexually frustrated. Both the forces of the earth and mother earth herself were plotting against you. ‘At least they’re demons and not vampires.’ You thought to yourself. The last thing you’d want would be a scolding from Dean about hunting a few days before you were to start ovulating. Been there, heard that. It never became any less awkward for both parties. Especially when you were forced to watch him fume, pacing back and forth while the only thing on your mind was how far you’d be able to take him before gagging. 

“You’re right. I’m not too smart.” The demon looked at you confused as you shoved it off with a push of white hot anger. “Thankfully that’s not a stumbling block for me. Why don’t you try to find another weakness to stick your nasty fingers in?” You snarled, hoisting your gun to eye level and cocking it back. “And trust me, salt can sting worse than any bullet, bitch.” 

Finger on the trigger, you felt the darkness you tried so hard to maintain curl around your edges, bringing you back to the bad places. The place where Sam and Dean had originally found you. 

As if your lack of control set off an alarm, Dean kicked down the door and threw Ruby’s demon knife straight ahead. You froze, acknowledging the anger and letting it go, your own demons retreating to their respective closets. Blinking, you brought your gun down and rose an eye brow, impressed. He had slunk to the floor but you could still see the knife had gone through his neck, the tip having ripped through the front of his throat.

“What happened to saving them!” Sam slid into the room.

Dean clenched his jaw and looked from the demon to yourself, and then to Sam. “I didn’t have time to dance with humanity.” He looked back at you. “There were more pressing matters at hand.” Reaching down, Dean yanked the blade and you tore your gaze away as the sound of blood filled your ears, embarrassed. 

 

Sam had gone to the bar to blow some steam leaving you and Dean alone in the motel room, a situation you’d rather of avoided. “Just say it.” You let go of your duffle bag and dropped it on the bed. “Get it out of your system, Dean. Go ahead, while we’re alone.” You faced him, readying yourself for the worst.

“I have nothing to say.” You continued to stare at the back of his head.

“More pressing matters?” You repeated from earlier that day. While the ride back to the motel had been a long one, you couldn't forget the way he looked at you.

“I was watching you.” You could see the muscles under his Henley become rigid and tense. “You froze.”

“I was giving you time.” You lied. Returning your attention back to your bag, you rolled your eyes. You had only frozen because you did not want to succumb to the worst parts of you. When the Winchester’s found you, you were at the top of your game but in all the worst ways. You were inhumane and borderline soulless. You had even overheard a conversation once between Cas and Dean where he’d said you were worse than Sam when part of him was still stuck in the cage. 

It was all caused by a hunt gone wrong that ended with you standing in front of your brother, burning. Burial was not an option because you knew he’d kill you if he was trapped in the veil. He always said "If you love me, you gotta let me go. You gotta let me burn, okay baby sis?" And so you did. And as each branch surrounding his corpse burned away so did every last bit of hope and love and generosity. You were still amazed by how Sam and Dean were able to put you back together again for the most part. You were a mess, rabid and out of control, yet there you were now: calm, clearheaded, and clean. 

“You were giving yourself time.” Dean dropped his gun into his bag and zipped it shut. Turning to look at you, he sighed. “You were convincing yourself to not go there, weren’t you?” You knew it was supposed to be a question, but that was pointless. He knew you better than you apparently knew yourself. Dean could tell in an instant when your skeletons began to rattle whereas it would take you days of wondering why you were so antsy. “I get it.” He said shortly. “I do. Some days, there are parts that are dying to get a breath of fresh air.” A serious look came over his green eyes. “But we can’t let that happen. There’s a reason we shove it so far back.”

“So no one gets hurt.” You said quietly.

“So no one gets hurt.” He repeated.

It was at this time that you realized how close he was standing. When he moved you were not sure, but hey, you didn’t mind it one bit. 

“Why did you wait to knife him?” You asked.

“Why didn’t you beat him to death with the butt of your gun?” The space continued to shrink.

“Touché.” You practically whispered against his lips. Looking at him through your eyelashes, your breath caught. Only for brief moments had you ever gotten this close to Dean Winchester, but even then it was different. Being slammed into a wall and consequently crumpling into each other was different than breathing in his breaths and feeling his hand curl around your hip. “Dean–“ you began.

“Shh…” he said softly, bending down to kiss your lips. Your hand rested itself against his chest, and as the kiss grew hungrier, so did your grip. 

A moan escaped your throat as he ran his teeth against your neck, and much like a kitten, you stretched into him granting him as much skin as he wanted. Your once tentative voice became a sigh, “Dean…”

Sitting down on the bed, your hands trailed down to his belt. Pushing his jeans down, you ran your hands against his hardening cock over his briefs. He hissed and eyes fluttered shut. Enamored by his response you pressed your lips against the cotton, running your tongue against the fabric. Dean grunted in frustration and reached for your hands, placing them on the elastic, practically begging you to take them off for him, which you found unbelievably hot. 

You tossed his jeans and briefs to the floor along with your shirt and bra. Dean had pulled you up once he was disrobed so he could push you further up the bed. Against the pillows, the hunter traced his lips down the outline of your body, hovering over your hardening nipples but never long enough. Then he made his way down to your pants. His hands began massaging the insides of your thighs, slowly creeping to your hot center. “It’s not as fun touching over clothes, now is it?” You arched your back to the sound of his voice. 

“Touch me.” You breathed, your hands struggling to find something to grip. He kept you squirming underneath him until you were finally freed from your jeans and underwear. “Normally I’m a lace guy,” he teased, “but I’m glad you don’t wear sexy underwear on hunts.” Dean licked his way back up to your lips. “It means you take the job seriously.” He groaned against your lips and you felt his rock hard cock press against your thigh.

Before you could stop yourself, you asked “Why? Why are you doing this?” 

He pulled away before rolling his hips into you again and attaching his lips to the sensitive skin behind your ear. “Seeing you wrapped against Cas this morning made me jealous.” He confessed with a faint growl. “I want you knotted around me; you’re a friggin pretzel.” He chuckled darkly, his hips taunting you. You gripped his bicep and trailed your hand to his cock, stroking him. His breathing sputtered at first but then regulated. “Is that a good enough reason for you baby?”

Eyes rolling back in your head, you arched your hips into him. “Fuck me, Dean Winchester.” You moaned.

“Stop giving me a hand job and I will.” Again with the sass.

“I love touching you.” You breathed as he coloured your neck with yellowing bruises.

“Have you thought about it before?” Lost in his touch, you hadn’t noticed that he’d placed your hands above your head and was about to slide into you. “I said, have you fantasized about me before?” Dean looked at you, removing is plump lips from your nipple. 

Just as you were about to answer, you felt yourself stretch around him. “Oh God YES!” You latched onto his arms and pulled him close, your legs wrapping around his hips. “Oh fucking hell, Dean, yes!” You mewled, rubbing your hips against his. 

“Yes you like this or yes you’ve thought of me naked?” His voice was strained, his concentration unable to both restrain himself from losing it all right then while also being snarky.

“BOTH!” You gasped, feeling him hit all the right places. Your hand slid to the back of his neck. “Oh fuck yes.” Your breathing became patchy and uneven, this was the fastest you’d ever been brought to the edge before.

“How often?” He grunted, his lips parted and practically gasped for air.

“Too often, baby. All the time.” You whined, scratching at his chest. “It’s never been this good though–“

“Shit–babe, you’re so tight.” He grunted loudly, muffling it against your shoulder blade, his teeth threatening to break the skin. “Are you close?”

You could hear how hard he was trying to hide the desperation in his voice. “Have you thought of me naked?” You just needed a few more seconds, a few more seconds and you’d see God himself; Dean was so good he’d bring you to Heaven and back.

“Since the first time I saw you.” His grip on your hips tightened, the pads of his fingers pressing bruises into your skin. 

Breathing erratically, you cupped the side of his face. “Baby, look at me.” You panted. He struggled to open his fiercely passionate eyes, the promise of climax begging to envelope the hunter. You leaned forward to kiss him, a kiss that quickly turned into a battle for dominance, when his hand slipped to your lower back. Your sensitive bud brushed against his coarse skin. Bucking your hips, your jaw went lax as he began to pound into you, the headboard banging into the wall, the V of his lower abdomen grinding against your clit while he continued to massage the inside of your walls. “DEAN!” Your head fell back as your body began to shake with pleasure, wave after wave racking your body, taking every ounce of energy from you.

All words had left as the two of you held a conversation made entirely of grunts and moans of exaltation. His voice lapped against you, each time growing more intense as he began to pulse inside of you. Collapsed on your chest, you didn’t mind the extra weight: too sated to care. Arms outstretched, you relished in the aftershocks your body was still sending through you. 

Dean’s phone began to buzz and he grunted with a sigh, his arm stretching toward the opposite bed, but not close enough to reach it. Sliding out from underneath him you climbed back into bed as he answered it, this time curling against him and resting your head on his chest. 

“Yeah?” His voice was raspy; you had no idea the boy could get so loud. Only hearing his side of the conversation, it was safe to assume it was Sam probably calling before going on a food run. Your assumptions were deemed correct when Dean covered the speaker and looked at you. “Burger and fries or salad?”

“Burger and a side salad.” 

“You’re weird.”

“You love it.”

“Yeah, whatever.” He smiled tiredly. 

You knew Sam would be home soon, so you begrudgingly unwrapped yourself from Dean, despite his pleas to keep you in bed with him, and carried your duffle bag to the bathroom. Had you stayed to sift through your bag with Dean naked and unashamed on the bed, you knew your will would have cracked and Sam would have walked in on round number two or three. Even after only one hit, the two of you were addicted. 

Rummaging through your bag and humming to yourself, you sighed when you saw that your box of tampons had spilled. As you started to put them back, the gears in your mind began to turn, putting two and two together. You froze, unable to move or even look at your own reflection. Scouring your mind, you tried to recall if he’d put on a condom. Swallowing hard, your hands began to shake. You most definitely didn’t remember him taking one off so maybe it fell off inside of you? No, you would have felt that by now. Letting out a shaky breath you looked down at your box of tampons and shot out a flare prayer, asking whoever was listening to “Please make me bleed like a motherfucker soon. I can’t get pregnant.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm thinking of making this a few chapters long. What do y'all think? Would you be interested?


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